


Dark Thoughts

by AidansQueen



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Light Masochism, Rough Sex, Threats of Violence, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-02
Updated: 2013-10-02
Packaged: 2017-12-28 04:51:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/987874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AidansQueen/pseuds/AidansQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly Hooper was the golden child, she was sweet and kind. Molly was the kind of person who always had a shoulder to cry on, but everybody has dark thoughts once in a while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own or make any money from any of it, all of it belongs to those who created Sherlock.

When Molly was four she’d pretend that she was invisible, careful never to make a sound when tip-toeing quietly past her parents in her footie pajamas. It took many tries to sneak past them undetected, as she got older she got wiser to her own tells. When she was seven she was so good at being invisible that she no longer had to even try.

Molly Hooper was brilliant at stealth.

When she was a teenager she no longer actually tried too, people ignored her on instinct. People assumed a notion about her by first glance and wrote her off as _weird_ or _strange_. Molly wasn’t particularly a mean person, Molly went out of her way to be very nice to people. She loved cats; in Egyptian mythology they worshipped cats as gods. Cats were wise and powerful in mythology and she thought herself smart to have one. She had a smile no one ever saw, a smile that laughed at the other children when they misunderstood out of their own ignorance the true meaning behind cats.

As an adult Molly made it a point to move out and away from her perfect little family, save for that great big dark spot that was Molly and her twin brother William. Molly was an anomaly in her family, a family full of lawyers and doctors, whilst she opted to be a coroner. William sought employment by other means, his was a megalomaniacal dream. His dream landed him in a psychiatric ward fifty miles from London, hidden deep in the countryside surrounded by tall thin looming trees that swayed and bent in the breeze.

Molly visited him once in a while.

William Callahan had been on a warpath to power when he’d made a fatal mistake in murdering a man who held to much influence and not enough disdain from his employees. William turned up in her flat late one evening paranoid and frantic. He was a tall burly man with dark hair and eyes; his Irish accent was thick and deep as he fumbled in Molly’s shower cursing the plumbing for assailing him with icy cold water.

“You’ve got to let the water warm up William,” Molly said patiently while he stood naked and covered in dirt and sweat in her shower. She shoots him and annoyed stare, ignoring his fathomless dark eyes staring at her quietly while she leaned in to adjust the shower knobs, “I saw the news,” she tells him quietly in way of saying that she knew he was hiding in her apartment trying to get rid of the evidence.

William never gets caught but for some reason he did this time, never made a mistake and yet he made a very big one tonight. Molly steps back and watches him scramble to wash away the evidence. She knows that she shouldn’t be standing there watching her brother take a shower but she doesn’t really care, she’s not standing there to be a pervert she’s waiting for him to explain.  She crosses her arms and glares at him, her usually sweet naïve expression drops away to reveal a hollow stare that she learned from him, the kind of stare that both unnerved people and got them to answer questions.

“Daniels betrayed me,” he hisses irritably, “my whole fuckin’ empire,” William snarls with venom, the dark curls on his head dripping with water as they hung limping near his eyes, “that dirty little cheat!”

Molly watches in stalk naked and wet out of the shower to snatch up her only clean towel and wrap it around his hips. “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill em!” William’s accent blurs in his rage, his voice deep and furious as he abruptly swipes his arm across her bathroom countertop and knocks all of the contents to the floor before proceeding towards her kitchen to find something to eat. Molly makes a sound of irritation and follows him, watches him grab at the last of her beer and a half eaten pastrami sandwich. He sits on the kitchen counter and eats voraciously, glaring at the far wall while deep in thought.

“You have to let it go William,” Molly says quietly, “You put everything in danger if you don’t.”

“I’ve locked all the accounts and sent all the money to foreign accounts…Mycroft will never get them all,” he tells her with a look of annoyance, “I’m not an idiot Molly.”

“Your computer…your phone,” Molly says pointedly.

“Locked…you know the passwords and if anyone gets in you change them and lock the thievin’ bastards out.”

“Will,” Molly says and watches him with wide doe eyes, biting her bottom lip to prevent tears from spilling from her eyes. She tries very hard not to cry in front of him, has always tried to be strong for him because he was her favorite brother and she rarely gets to see him anymore.

“Now don’ go doin tha’,” William says with a huff as he watches her brown eyes water as she turns her gaze away from him.

“I’m just worried about you is all,” she says quietly.

He spends the rest of that evening trying to make her smile because it’s the only thing he can think of doing. In the morning Mycroft in on their doorstep demanding her brother, shoves past her into the living room where William waits in his best grey suit with his dark curls slicked back, eyeing Mycroft with a predatory smile. Negotiations are short and sweet, William goes willingly if Molly is left out of it and relocated for her own safety.

William always kept her safe.

Mycroft locks her brother up in a maximum security psychiatric ward and her name changes from Mary Callahan to Molly Hooper.

Molly Hooper is much like Mary Callahan, in fact save for a few cat sweaters they’re essentially the same person. Molly wasn’t like William though; she wasn’t a calculating entrepreneur of the illegal professions. Molly was sweet and kind or at least she tried to be, Molly liked cats and musicals, she enjoyed art and music and was always the kind of person who had a shoulder to cry on.  Molly wasn’t outwardly anything like her twin, but inwardly, inside in the secret places of her mind sometimes she dreamt of ruling the world.

Molly might think dark thoughts but she never acted on them, a lot of people had dark thoughts. It was a perfectly normal thing to do, even if some of those thoughts bordered on abnormal. Sherlock Holmes was her secret fantasy, his brilliant mind and bright blue eyes had beguiled her. He was like the others though; he ignored her like they did because he couldn’t see past that amazingly powerful shield around her, that invisible shield that she learned to use even when she was a small child. It was sometimes more of a nuisance then it was an advantage.

It didn’t have an _off_ button.

When he fell from the roof on St. Bart’s, when he disappeared into the countryside with Irene Adler Molly knew that Sherlock Holmes was just like all the others. She despaired of this but kept going, kept smiling and being happy because it was better than facing the empty cold apartment her brother no longer shared with her on occasion because he was currently rotting away in one of Mycroft’s so called _prisons_.

It was cold the evening that sat in her apartment watching TV on the sofa, drifting off to sleep under a pile of blankets when the deadbolt on her apartment door clicked to the right. Molly blinked sleepily and listened, holding her breath as someone pried the second lock undone. But the time the door swung open she was on her feet, armed with a wooden baseball bat. She’d expected William fresh out of prison, (more like broke out) or burglars.

It was an old lady.

Molly watched the old woman fumble backwards into the apartment without saying a word and she almost giggled in relief. It wouldn’t have been the first time that a tenant lost a key and her landlady Mrs. Fennes gave them the wrong key.

“Um excuse me?” Molly says quietly in a sweet voice, stepping around the sofa as the woman stops and straightens. She freezes in place, notes the physique of this woman who was not very _womanly_ , was too tall and to quick. Abruptly she kicks the door closed and whips around to face her. Fathomless dark eyes that were reminiscent of her brother’s watched her like a hawk watched its prey.

“You have got to be _joking_ …” Molly shakes her head and crosses her arms as the villain sheds his disguise and chuckles. He steps forward in khakis and a white shirt, clothes he wore often when he pretended to be Jim from IT.

“What,” he says, tilting his head to the  side in an unsettling way, making the lights from her lampstand shimmer in his black eyes oddly, “aren’t you happy to see me Molly?”

His soft Irish lilt which often enflamed her only made her furious, “I checked your body myself,” Molly snaps petulantly, “You were dead!”

“I had to be particularly careful there Molly,” he says as he taps his chin and looks for all the world like a thoughtful young man, “I knew you’d notice it…you notice what he doesn’t and that Molly,” he steps forward and she steps back, he grins at this and continues talking, “ _that_ …” he says in a softer voice, “is what makes you so important.”

  
  
  
“Me?” Molly says in bewilderment, her back bumping against the far wall. He stops before her and she knows there is no way out. His right arm comes up to brace against the wall just above her head, his dark penetrating eyes boring in her face as the expression on his face drops and he becomes hollow.

“You think you’re the only one who can disappear Molly?” he says as he bores down on her, his chest bumping against her as he pins her against the wall, “You might had escaped his notice but you sure as hell didn’t escape _mine_.”

When he forcibly presses open mouth kisses against her collarbone, tears at the buttons of her blouse she understands what he’s doing. He wants the power back, wants to tip the scales back into his favor. He is angry; she can feel it in his hands as he tears her blouse with excess force, buttons flying across the room and scattering like plastic rain against the hard wood floor.

He _knows_.

Jim hates to be tricked, hates to be fooled and he knows Molly has tricked him. He bought into Molly’s innocent personality, believed every word because she was just so sweet it was hard not to.  Anything that had belonged to William or Mary Callahan was stored away in William’s penthouse across town, ferreted away like wiping away a chalkboard. She wanted a clean start as Molly Hooper, wanted to sweep her past under the carpet and walk away.

When he bites down on her collarbones, toys with her emotions as he mercilessly cows her into submission with prodding words about how Sherlock Holmes being stupider then either of them thought considering he never realized who the sweet little coroner was related too. When bites down again and something dark wells up deep inside, something potent and strong. Molly wasn’t like her brother at all but sometimes she thought about it.

When she grips the back of his head in her hand, his dark hair twisted in her fingertips he hisses when she yanks his head back and kisses him roughly on the mouth. Molly would not be cowed into submission this time, Molly would have her cake and eat it too.

_Just this once…just this once…_

Molly told herself in a mental mantra as she tore as Jim’s closes and used what body weight she had to shove him backwards towards the couch. When he tries to fend her off she fights harder, she won’t let him have control this time. He is bewildered and confused at first, unable to tear his eyes from the woman tearing at his clothes with pale nimble hands while her teeth tore at the flesh of his shoulder, her hands exploring his torso.

“What--…” he barely manages to get out before she silences him, slides her tongue against his.

This was not how it was supposed to go.

Molly felt brave tonight, tonight she wanted to be greedy and do what she wanted. “Because I’m greedy,” Molly murmurs between kisses as she unbuckles his hands and shoves them down his hips. From there it becomes a war between opposing sides, fighting for power. After they lay naked and sweaty on her bed while Molly presses open mouth kisses on his right side just above his ribs. She is sore and aching, is fairly certain he’s torn bits of her hair out and knows she’ll have bite marks scattered across her shoulders.

“ _My my_ … you _are_ greedy,” he affirms in the darkness after a long silence.

“I’m greedy,” Molly nods as she explores his body in detail, trailing her tongue along the dark line of hair that disappeared beneath the sheets, “I wanted to keep both of you…but if I had to pick I would have picked you…every time.”

“What?” he says as she feels him freeze beneath her.

“He’s alive you know,” Molly says as she mounts him, sits above him with her legs on either side near his hips, “Sherlock Holmes is alive…so I still get to keep both of you I suppose.”

“I’ll kill him,” he hisses and sits up sharply, almost dumping her from his lap, “I’ll fucking kill him!”

He’s gripping her hips sharply, pinning her on his lap while the hard length of his grows hot and insistent beneath her. She shifts and watches his dark eyes become vicious, raises her up off of him before sliding her back down roughly, his left hand curling in her hair and yanking her head backwards while his body took hers brutally. He hisses profanities, threatens to torture and murder her poor Sherlock Holmes, promises that she’ll have to watch.

When she comes she screams, partly for the bliss of it and partly because he just bit her nipple.  In the morning she is making coffee, the sun barely peaking over the horizon outside her kitchen window when he catches her by her hair and presses his body up against hers, pinning her against the sink. Her back is to his chest as he pulls her head back, murmurs threats and promises before kissing her violently, isn’t surprised this time when she grabs onto him, slides her tongue against his.

When he’s gone she knows he’ll be back, she saw the pleased look in his eyes when she told him he was what she wanted, that she chose him. When she puts on the white knitted cardigan with cats all over the front she smiles to herself and fingers the collar of the white long sleeve shirt beneath it, knows that’s under the collar she had bite marks and bruises peppering her shoulders from their rough lovemaking.

Just this once…

She thinks, as she straightens out her clothes and gets ready for work. She wasn’t like her brother, she might have a few dark thoughts once in a while but Molly Hooper was a good woman.

Sometimes.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
